I had a few friends. They died. So I fight depression. I used to post here more and then I just stopped. I have a few friends up North but now I live in the deep south and travelling is hard for me. Nostalgia clings to me. I smell the nostalgia like sea kelp and saltwater breezes. There are some good people on this forum. I think I am ready to come back.
Aging in Minor Keys
I once imagined skies would burn for me,
Their molten songs ablaze with fierce desire.
But now my days are clouds that barely bleed,
A palette dulled, a smudge of ashen fire.
The roads I skipped are tangled, root-bound veins,
That feed some unseen heart beneath the earth.
My steps, instead, meandered softer plains,
A compass spun to comfort over worth.
Regret’s a ghost who murmurs through the glass,
Its breath a fog that fades with every blink.
I toast its shape with cheap and clinking brass—
Why mourn what’s vanished when there’s beer to drink?
The doors I closed are bells without their clappers,
Still swinging faintly in the dream’s dim rafters.
